Always Be My Probie
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Post Good Cop, Bad Cop. McGee contemplates probie-ness.


Disclaimer: I'm tired of making up amusing ones. Disclaimers, I mean.

Spoilers: _Good Cop, Bad Cop_. Don't move on to the summary if you don't wish to be spoiled. Wheee-whooo, wheee-whooo, this is your final warning, step away from the summary.

Summary: McGee starts to wonder if having to give up his honorary status is really what he wants now that Ziva has come in and rained on his parade with her little black rain cloud. Of course.

* * *

"… and after that, you can go pick up our lunch order, okay, Probie?"

McGee's head shot up, a snappy retort about making Ziva do it dying on his lips as he realized that Tony _was_ making Ziva do it. She smiled at him over a stack of file folders. "From where?"

"I dunno. McGee!" Tony swung his chair around. "Where do we like that we haven't had in awhile because they don't deliver?"

Even at his current level of distraction, it only took him a moment. "Lucky House."

"Nah, I'm not in the mood for…wait is that the place with the kick-ass spring rolls and the Kung Pao that'll melt your face off? Maybe I am feeling lucky. Probie, let's see a menu."

The clatter of the keyboard sounded immediately from Ziva's desk. She turned her monitor toward the bullpen a moment later. "Is this the restaurant?"

"Probie, I can't read that from here and you know I like to order off a hard copy. Make that printer earn its keep! Do one for McGee, too, so we don't have to share."

McGee tried to speak up, to say that he would just look at Tony's copy when he was done, but found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the bizarre if now commonplace spectacle of Ziva following petty orders with a smile. Every time he saw it happen, it just got more and more disquieting, disturbing and… She'd taken a paperclip off the ear the other day with an indulgent laugh and a roll of her eyes! That was just downright wrong!

Come to think of it, Tony hadn't said Ziva's name in over a week and she didn't seem upset that he had apparently forgotten it. It was Probie, this and Probie, that. Probie, get me the file. Probie, go to the coffee shop. Probie, sit there and pretend you enjoy being called Probie every three seconds all freaking day. "Thanks, Probie," McGee said unintentionally when Ziva handed him a menu that still smelled of printer ink. She didn't seem quite as sincere when she smiled at him.

Hiding his flushed face behind the papers, he tried to focus on the lunch specials. He hadn't had a problem with Probie Lee, or flash in the Probie Duane, or any of the half-dozen or so probies that had occupied the desk in the corner over the past few months. Sweet and sour pork? He blinked and looked up at Ziva, who was standing in front of him with a pad of paper. "Did you say something?"

"Sorry, I did not mean to rush you."

Tony appeared over her shoulder. "You don't have to make suggestions, Probie. Senior agents such as McGee only hesitate to make decisions when the situation warrants it. That'll come with time for you."

She took a deep breath and turned to Tony, wiping his triumphant smile off his face with a mildly stated, "Have you decided on how many orders of spring rolls you would like?"

"They're for all of us to share, Probie. I think we'll be good with what I said. Once McGee is done, run down to the lab with a menu for Abby. Ducky and Palmer already ordered sandwiches, so you're off the hook there."

One difficult decision later, McGee surrendered his menu as Ziva walked toward the stairs on the premise that probies had to earn elevator privileges. Tony pursed his lips. "I don't think taking the stairs is that big a deal to someone who runs every day. Maybe I should throw a couple of procedural manuals in her backpack and have her take that."

McGee was unable to stifle a disgusted sigh.

"Something bugging you Moo McGoo Gai Pan? We can call the probie if you changed your mind about the extra spring rolls."

"Can you lay off the probie stuff with Ziva?"

"No. I kinda don't like Stepford Ziva. I can't even remember the last time she threatened me with office products." He leaned back in his chair, expression thoughtful. "Maybe she's just glad to be official. Things'll get back to normal soon – like when Gibbs got rid of the moustache! I got close with that paperclip a couple days ago."

Not making a connection between Ziva and Gibbs' moustache, McGee stuck to the present situation. "She laughed it off and didn't retaliate!"

"True, but there was a second in there when she was thinking about hogtying me with my belt. She covered it up pretty fast, but…I think we can get back to a place where she makes the threat out loud. She was thinking about it a few minutes ago, so I think I'm close to a breakthrough. Five bucks says she'll have me in a headlock by Friday afternoon."

He didn't succeed when she returned from the lab to grab her coat, though he did seem to get close when he suggested that she take a bus to the restaurant. McGee was almost ready to turn over his own car keys when Tony relented. Abby joined them in the bullpen shortly after Ziva left.

Tony didn't even look up from the GSM he'd pulled out of his top drawer. "Even our new superprobie can't bring us take-out that fast, Abs."

"Is Ziva acting funny?"

"Funny ha-ha? No. Funny, Sure, Tony, I'll pick up your dry-cleaning? Yeah."

"I noticed that too. Not that she picked up your dry-cleaning…"

"She didn't? But she said she was going to do it when…"

McGee interrupted, "You're trying to tick off Ziva, not Abby."

"Yeah, but Ziva did say she would…"

Abby cut him off this time, saving McGee the trouble. "I was just using it as an example. Or not as an example, because I didn't know she was doing that. I just meant a general weirdness of her trying to get us to like her."

Feeling an unintentional and oblique accusation, McGee was quick to point out, "But we do like Ziva."

"McGee, I know that, you know that, this desk knows that, but she's acting like _she_ doesn't know that. And her hugging is really off. I'll take responsibility for that. Every time she comes to the lab, she's getting a hug. I can even make up reasons for her to come down. I should probably hug whoever comes with her too so no one feels left out."

Tony had settled down with his magazine again. "Just remember to ask permission first."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Why do we have to sit through the same presentation with the same sexual harassment woman every year? Every time she says 'hug' she gives me the evil eye."

"Better than the looks she gives Palmer." Although he kept his magazine at eye-level, McGee could see that Tony was looking at Ziva's desk. "She licked me in the middle of that seminar once. Last week all she did was sit quietly and attentively."

Abby walked out a moment later with a wave, probably with the intention of getting started on her list of contrived reasons for Ziva to come to the lab. McGee tried to concentrate on his computer, but Tony's occasional comments regarding models he wasn't really looking at weren't the greatest source of confusion. Even when Ziva did get back to normal, did that mean that the whole team was going to be normal again? He wasn't the probie and hadn't been for a long time, but…actually, the explicit respect from Tony was nice and no one was ganging up on him or gluing him to various articles on his desk and he was better in his job than he ever had been before, which was only the natural consequence of experience. Director Vance had a high opinion of him. That made him the most nervous.

Eventually, the major case team was going to get a new probie and one of them would have to move on. Gibbs wasn't gong anywhere until he finally retired for real, Tony was the competent if annoying heir apparent, Ziva was the former foreign operative exchanging loyalty for protection from her past and McGee was the under appreciated exceptional agent that Director Vance would think he was doing a huge favor by promoting to senior field agent or maybe even team leader. Somewhere else.

Tony suddenly broke the silence. "I can't be sure, but I think she likes being a probie."

"She does not!"

"No reason to crank it to eleven, McGee. I'm sitting right here."

"I'm just saying that Ziva is the least probie-like probie we could possibly have and maybe _you_ shouldn't act like she's just a probie."

"She's not gonna leave like the last few. And maybe I wouldn't act like she was a probie if _she_ told me not to, possibly while all up in my face and brandishing a stapler."

"This plan is stupid."

"You're just mad that you didn't think of it first. I think we need to ramp it up a little, though. Now not only are we both gonna call her Probie, but we're gonna start calling each other Partner. That'll drive her nuts."

"Tony…"

"Don't try to weasel out of this, McGee. She doesn't get to stop being Probie until she starts being Ziva again."

"I thought you just said she likes being a probie."

"Yeah, well nobody wants to be Probie forever."

"Franks still calls Gibbs Probie," McGee mumbled, but Tony didn't hear him as he was greeting Ziva's return with his quest to be put in a headlock.


End file.
